


let us sing with one accord

by scribblingTiresias



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe- Mormon, Autistic Link (Legend of Zelda), Christian Holidays, Christianity, Christmas, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Happy Ending, Mormonism, Music, Musicians, POV Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Singer Zelda, Songfic, Technically a songfic anyway, This entire AU is crack, organist Ganon, thank you tag wranglers!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 14:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblingTiresias/pseuds/scribblingTiresias
Summary: Christmas time is here again, and Link and Zelda are both performing in their ward's Christmas program. But thanks to an old family feud, the organist has beef with Zelda.Can Zelda sing over his incredibly loud playing? Can Link overcome his stage fright?Will *anyone* survive the Primary Children's Choir's performance?
Relationships: Anju/Kafei (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf & Link (Legend of Zelda), Ganondorf & Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	let us sing with one accord

The chapel was freezing, so cold that the hair on Zelda’s arms prickled against the soft tulle of her sleeves. She rubbed her arms together and glanced around, waiting for her best friend. 

It was always strange to sit at the front of the stand behind the pulpit. You could see the whole room- the rows and rows of burgundy pews, the plastic accordion-curtain that separated the gym from the chapel, and the two doors on each side- spread out like the world’s most boring map. 

The congregation trickled in, one family at a time. Normally, not _that _many people showed up. Zelda’s ward was tiny, barely big enough to qualify _as _a ward. But today was the Christmas program, and even the people who never came to church would drag themselves in. 

The nearer side door opened. The loud babble of toddlers echoed through the chapel as Link’s family crammed themselves onto the front pew. Link’s siblings, all fourteen of them, dressed in Christmas red and green, laughed and shouted and screeched. One of the youngest-- Zelda could never keep track of them all- flung a fire truck at the pulpit, and it clattered down to the greyish carpet. 

Link split off from his family and made his way towards the stand. He was wearing a white button-down and khakis- that was practically the uniform for the guys in their ward- but the tie he wore was bright red, with a huge green Christmas tree plastered on it. He looked sheepish as he climbed the stairs and sat down next to Zelda. 

_Hey, _he signed. 

Link was selectively mute. He could _sing _just fine, and he could talk a little bit around friends and family, but it was a strain for him, and he could only get a few words out at a time. When he could, he used sign language; Zelda had learnt enough of it that they could have a conversation. 

_Hey, _she signed back. _You excited? _

_Scared out of my pants. _Link gave her a nervous half-smile.

_It’ll be fine. You’ve been practicing. _

_Yeah, but... _Link’s shoulders sagged. 

The chapel was just about full, and sacrament meeting wouldn’t start for another five minutes. A couple younger boys hurried to the end of the chapel and opened the accordion curtain. Older boys were already setting up metal folding chairs. 

_You know how it is, _Link said. _So many people._

Zelda patted him on the shoulder. Link had the voice of an angel. The bishop asked him to sing in the Christmas program. _every _year. Every year, Link said yes, whether he wanted to or not-- you didn’t say no to the bishop. And _every _year, Link got stage fright. 

_Yeah, but they’re cheering you on. Besides..._

She covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. The chapel was built for acoustics, in theory, and voices carried.

_You’re going right after the kids’ choir. _

_Oh _**_boy_.** Link winced._ If I never have to hear Stars Are Gleaming again, it’ll be too soon. _

A long, droning, repetitive carol was not the best choice for a choir of tiny children who couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. And yet, the Primary chorister had made... choices. 

_Yeah, see? They’ll _ **love ** _you. ‘Cause you’re _ _**not **Stars are Freakin’ Gleaming_ _._

Zelda playfully nudged his shoulder. Link nudged back, with another nervous little smile. 

_You think **he’ll **show up this time? _he asked.

Zelda glanced across the stand to the organ. It wasn’t a _big _organ-- in fact, it was about as tiny and cheap as church organs went, with a tacky fake wood finish and a bench that could barely fit a little old lady. But knowing who might be playing it... it was like a wooden monster was sleeping, waiting for someone to wake it. 

_He’ll probably make his mom play again, _Zelda said. _Don’t worry about it. _

**BANG!**

The back door of the chapel slammed open. Heavy steel-toed foosteps echoed through the chapel, and boomed up the hollow wood stairs. A long shadow stretched over the stand, and the huge red-haired man sat down at the organ. 

_Oh no, _Zelda thought. 

For the life of her, she didn’t know why Ganondorf was the organist. He was what you’d charitably call ‘less active’-- he never came to church if he could avoid it, and when he _did _bother to show up, he wore ripped jeans and work boots_. _His mom, Sister Dragmire-- or was it his _aunt, _Sister Dragmire? Zelda could never tell them apart-- usually filled in for him. 

And Zelda was just fine with that. 

Ganondorf and the Dragmires hated her _guts_. Hers and her entire family’s. She wasn’t sure _why- _she wasn’t sure if there was even a reason for it anymore. Family legend said it had something to do with Ganondorf’s aunt ruining Zelda’s dad’s baby blessing-- Sister Dragmire said it was _Zelda’s _Aunt Impa that had ruined _Ganondorf’s _baby blessing-- and for all Zelda knew, it might have been drama about who got to be Primary president or who got to bring casserole to the Relief Society potluck. 

Zelda didn’t care about the feud. It was background noise, crap that the old folks pulled on each other. Whatever. But whenever Zelda was singing and Ganondorf was on the organ, he’d pull out as many stops as it took to drown her out. 

Well, _this _year, Zelda wasn’t gonna let that happen. She’d practiced for hours. She’d made the walls of her bedroom rattle with her voice alone. 

Ganon didn’t stand a chance. 

Sister Anju came in a minute late-- but that was totally understandable, because she was carrying a cello case that was bigger than she was. Her husband, Brother Kafei, helped her pull it up the steps, wobbling it over to its place next to the organ. She set it down and smiled at him. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“Break a leg,” he murmured. 

“Thanks, darling.” 

They’d _just _gotten married, and they were so in love that they glowed. 

The service started. It was the same Christmas service as every year- the bishop and his counselors read The Christmas Story, someone sang, someone read more bits. 

“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn,” the bishop read. “--Now Sister Hyrule will sing _O Come All Ye Faithful_.” 

Her turn now. Better make it count. 

She stood up and walked to the microphone, glancing over at the organ. Ganondorf squinted back at her and sneered. She glared back at him.

_Steady, _she told herself.

She took a deep breath, smiled at the congregation, and began. 

“O come, all ye faithful--” 

Ganondorf pulled a knob, and then another. Notes bounced off the walls, with the force of rocks clattering down before an avalanche. 

Zelda took another breath from the pit of her stomach. 

“Come and behOLD HIM, BORN THE KING OF ANGELS--” 

Her soprano might have been high and clear, but it wasn’t fragile. She raised her voice and sang with all her heart. 

“OH COME LET US ADORE HIM--” 

Ganondorf slammed his foot down on the pedal. The organ pipes thrummed. Chords crashed around her. 

“OH COME LET US ADORE HIM-” 

Her voice was swallowed up in the sound. 

_Oh, no you don’t. _

Zelda closed her eyes.

“SING, CHOIRS OF ANGELS, SING IN EXULTATION-” 

And she really did sing in exultation, pouring every bit of heart and every bit of _spite _she could into her voice. She stretched out the final notes, letting them linger, far longer -- and _louder_\-- than the sound of the organ. 

“OH COME LET US ADORE HIM, CHRIST OUR LORD!”

Ganondorf’s hands slipped off the keys. Zelda gave him a cheeky grin.

_Beat **that**, _she thought. 

She sat back down, neatly smoothing out her skirt, prim as could be- as if she hadn’t just belted out a carol like an opera singer. Link gave her a thumbs-up. 

_Thanks, _she signed. 

“And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night...” the bishop read. “--And now the Primary Children’s choir will sing _Stars are Gleaming.” _

Every child in the ward shuffled up to the stand, lining up in front of the choir seats. The Primary president- who looked rather harried, right this second- stood up to conduct. 

The next few moments were absolutely wretched. _Stars are Gleaming _was not the best carol to begin with, and sung with very little practice by under-twelves, it stretched into an infinity of children mumbling “o-ing o-ing”. 

Zelda shifted in her seat, and glanced over at Link. He was staring straight ahead, his arms folded tight, rocking very slightly back and forth. She tapped him on the shoulder. 

_You okay? _

_It’s -- getting too much, _Link signed. His shoulders hunched up to his ears.

_You need to leave? _

Link got overstimulated easily. Loud noises and crowds were not his friends. The children’s choir was both at once.

_I’m okay. I can stay for my solo. _

_You sure? _Zelda watched him, concerned. 

_Yes. _Link breathed out slow. _It’s fine. I’m fine. _

_Okay. _Zelda sat back in her chair. 

The interminable song ended-- _finally_\-- and the children filed back down. Link’s fingers curled around the armrests of the chair. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. 

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. -- And now Brother Kokiri will sing Angels We Have Heard on High.“

Link stood up. He crossed his fingers so tight his fingertips turned red. 

“Good luck,” Zelda whispered. 

He walked up to the microphone and took it in one hand, to steady himself. He cleared his throat, and began to sing. 

“Angels-” 

As soon as he sung the first note, Ganondorf slammed down on the keys, his foot pushing the pedal all the way to the floor. The organ boomed like something from a vampire movie. 

Zelda’s hand clenched into a fist. That _ba- _that _jerkwad! _It was one thing for him to go after her, but after her _friend?!_

“A-And the mountains in reply-” 

Link was slipping; she could tell from here. He was the bravest person she knew- if she was as scared of people as he was, she’d never leave the house, let alone _perform on stage_. But even he had his limits. And he was shaking like a leaf, holding onto the microphone stand as if it’d hold him up. 

“Echoing - echoing-”

The organ rumbled on without him. Link’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. He turned around and ran off the stage, darting through the side door. 

The bishop stood up, looking from the door to the organ to the door again. Zelda spared a moment to shoot a glare at Ganondorf, and then ran after Link. 

“And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God--“ The bishop’s voice came through the intercom, loud and clear. The Church had it set up so you could hear the whole of sacrament meeting anywhere in the building, even if you had to leave because of a crying baby or a sudden emergency. Lucky for her, maybe- not so lucky for _him_. Hopefully, he’d be okay. 

She found him in an empty classroom, rocking back and forth in a corner, his breath catching fast. He glanced over his shoulder, eyes wide- and let out a sigh of relief when he saw her. 

“You okay?” she asked. 

Link shook his head. 

“...All right. I’m here,” she said. 

She sat down on one of the rubbery chairs, glancing between the door and Link. Link covered his face with his hands, and breathed deep- in and out, slow and steady....

The door opened. A long shadow stretched into the room. Zelda sat up straighter, folded her arms-- glared daggers. 

“What do _you _want?” she asked.

Ganondorf stood in the doorway, shoulders awkwardly slumped so his head wouldn’t graze the ceiling. He was taller, up close, than Zelda had thought-- taller, but more awkward, like his limbs didn’t all fit right. He rubbed the back of his neck, where his too-long hair met the collar of his flannel shirt. 

“...Is... is he okay?” he asked. 

“No,” Zelda said. 

Link turned and looked back at the door. He tapped his fingertips together and then started signing. 

“Kid- Slow down, I don’t-” Ganondorf said.

“...He says he’s fine now, thanks for asking,” Zelda translated. She wasn’t sure if that was true- but she didn’t want to put words in Link’s mouth. 

“Okay.” Ganondorf’s eyes flicked from Zelda to Link and back again. The air filled with a musty, awkward silence. 

“-and now Sister Termina will play O Holy Night,” the intercom crackled. 

Sister Anju began to play her cello. Even over the crummy speakers, the music was warm as tea on a cold day. Link relaxed- his shoulders lowered, and he sat up a little straighter.

Zelda knew this song by heart- she’d sung it herself last year. The words lingered in her mind. 

_Long lay the world in sin and error pining... _

“So, uh...” Ganondorf muttered. He shifted from foot to foot. “...Is it too late to say I’m sorry?” 

“What?” Zelda leaned back, away from him. The cheap plastic creaked. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you. ...Just got a little carried away, that’s all.” 

He looked guiltily at Zelda. She bit her lip. 

“That’s an understatement, isn’t it?” she said.

“All right, fine, a _lot _carried away.” He grinned sheepishly. “...But I didn’t mean to set you off, or whatever.” 

Link glanced from him, to Zelda, and back again. 

_A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices... _

_It’s okay, _Link signed. Zelda translated. “I know you didn’t mean it.” 

“Do _you_?” Ganondorf asked. He laughed, a deep booming laugh. Zelda felt the tips of her ears turn pink. 

“... No, I don’t.” 

“Well, I’m still sorry. Take it or leave it,” Ganondorf said. He shoved his hands in his pockets. 

_O Holy Night _hung in the air. 

It was Christmas. He’d offered an apology. And-- she realized, as he looked at Link with real concern- she might have judged him a little too harshly. Maybe she’d let the feud get to her after all.

“I’ll take it,” she said. 

Link grinned, and flashed them both a thumbs-up. 

_I’m okay now, _he signed. Then, he cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” he said. 

“Any time, kid.” 

Zelda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Link felt better-- safe enough he could speak out loud. And as the last notes of _O Holy Night _faded away, she realized- she felt safer, too, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. 

“Well--” Ganondorf said. “I better get goin’. Maybe... could we hang out after church sometime?” 

Link signed something, his hands moving quick over each other. As Zelda translated, she realized she felt the same way. 

“We’d like that,” she said. “We’d like that a lot."

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this all in one sitting because I was having fun with it-- 75% because organist!Ganon needs more love and 25% because I will never ever pass up a chance to dunk on Stars Were Gleaming. 
> 
> If you're not Mormon or exMormon, I don't know how much sense this will make-- but I had a blast and I hope you will too.


End file.
